2am wisdom

My chinese friend in broken english, after we've slaved at the most wierdest of bugs for 16 hours straight...

"The more shit we eat, the less left for others"

Profound.

Lessons from 2010

• Doing something makes me more happy than thinking something. Especially, when the thing I am thinking about has been thought of a 100 times before :)
• Don't try to read other people's mind. Don't expect them to read mine. Tell them.
• I cannot be friends with everyone. Live life as per my convictions. Friends come and stay on their own. ( I met some great new ones this year :) )
• Get some more structure into my life. Well, that may not be a lot given where I am starting from. It's a good idea to not have to always think about what to do next.
• Try to be clear in my thinking. Weighing the pros and cons of everything must be done within reason. Oftentimes, it is not what I choose that matters but that I choose something and give it all I've got. (Lest I am always stuck in "limbo" :) )
• Simplify. I realized I don't need 10 things to work on, 10 hobbies, 10 friends or 10 kinds of food to eat. I need just 2 good ones. Find them and hopefully keep them.
• I cannot understand everything (Yet :)). Somethings, I have to let go of.
• Finally... I think most people addicted to facebook.com would be happier by being addicted to fmylife.com (This is more of a suggestion)

How much longer

How much longer, before the lesson is learnt,

twice bitten, twice stung, twice burnt,

not naive anymore, the ruse only goes so far

how'd you play with fire and not expect a scar?

Conflicted Minds

There is a fundamental conflict in my thinking. Something I know is shared by a few of my friends (Actually, very few with whom I discuss such stuff). The conflict is between the two different sides of the thought process and their different needs.

On one side is the social self. The self that defines itself relative to others, as an outcome of social-conditioning. The self that thrives on being respected, appreciated, admired, accepted ... needed by others. The self that competes with others, wants to be better than others (Mating instincts? :) ). Y (The other party to this discussion) would rather call it the biological self. The society, he argues, is the sum total of a billion biological instincts. May be.

The other side is the abstract self. The self that yearns for the absolute and the pure. Something that is not decided by people but exists eternally. Like, may be, what this guy finds in some really abstract piece of math. Or some find in God. Or some find in a painting. It exists and is beautiful without any care for another person's judgement.

These needs are at odds with each other. An achievement for the abstract side does not satisfy the social side. The discontent remains. Conversely, the abstract self actually detests the social side. It detests the very desire to be recognized, it detests the pleasure from being appreciated. In the pure world, these things should have no effect.

But they both exist in me (:( ), like two misbehaved constantly-quarreling kids. Just as I realized this.. Y came up with this very cheesy line.. "It's a duality. Like the quantum duality. If it works for the world, it should work for us."

Hmm. That seems correct. The answer is an equilibrium. Recognize both exist. Let them co-exist. Stop the fight. Stealing a picture from a talk by a professor I really like....

Broken Glass

Strange are the ways,

of shattered glass,

better left broken at times,

than held, in hurting caress.

But we hold no grudge,

we yield to reason,

it was not the day,

just was not the season.

But it isn't our failing,

that we obey our heart,

that the meaning in our eyes,

forked wide apart.

But can scattered pieces,

and but a spoonful of glue,

bear the drops again,

and stop the spew?

The day may never come,

or maybe isn't yet here,

when we dare blow at dust,

settled deep on a crusted tear.

Strange are the ways,

of shattered glass,

better left broken?

than held, in hurting caress?

Hmm

There is a lot in life I associate with dogs. I could say my first friend was a dog. The kinds that don't mind when you pull their ears and wake them up... just because you are bored. (Only to pay it back on the Sunday morning when you don't have to wake up early for school.)

My first brush with death was a dog. He went out one day and never made it back... too much enthusiasm for his own good. Not unlike Marley of Marley & Me. Why do I rant about this now? I just finished watching that movie. There are these words at the end,
"A dog has no use for fancy cars, big homes, or designer clothes. A water log stick will do just fine. A dog doesn't care if your rich or poor, clever or dull, smart or dumb. Give him your heart and he'll give you his. How many people can you say that about? How many people can make you feel rare and pure and special? How many people can make you feel extraordinary?"

Someone once called me someone's dog. Whatever the context, if only I could be that pure...

Enlightenment!

Being happy is not that hard. All you need is something to do... and appreciate the something you do.

Contradictions

I wonder how slightly pensive, idealistic, aimless, over analyzing talk can coexist with extremely focused and ruthlessly practical walk.

The unreal

You meet people everyday. New people. Old people. Unreal people. With coats and coats of paint, to hold the rust without and within. Adding a layer every year. Are twenty something layers virtually impenetrable? Cynicism. Ego. Pride. Hurt. Fear. Insecurity. Why can I see the layers. Old paint. New paint. But not the metal beneath? I want to pry. It keeps sinking deeper. And I keep up the conversation. My unrealness talking to your unrealness.

It tires me. And I go back to them, whom I knew before. The paints' still there, but there is the shared knowledge, of having seen the naked beam once. The talk is still unreal. But you borrow the reality from a distant past. And continue chipping away at the coats, slowly, hoping you can chip away one before a new one comes up.

And I seek the girders of steel. Immune to rust and unafraid of the blemishes. But to see that maybe you must be that.

The siege

There used to be a fortress. Impregnable and proud.
Contained but cocooned. Determined but hidebound.

Stones are merely instruments of the will that rules within.
No match for a long strung arrow flaying the tender string.

The weakness lay deep, but they'd caught the slight blink,
the walls would not hold now, they'd shred the weakest link.

The gates now thrown open, the forces marched in,
and every strike drew blood, as they caught the naked shin,
they would not win it all, the will was not all gone,
but the armor of pride and certainity, lay forever worn.

But brusies make stronger, and wounds leave scars,
serving as incessant lessons, of forgotten old wars,
and with walls goes the dogma, chains that held you back,
narrow minds pried open, to many a different track.

Peace prevails where there are walls. They will go up again.
But what they protect shall never be the same...

Ephemeral

Is my only sin,
this ephemeral high,
belied only, in quickened beats,
not a scream, just a sigh.

as numbers fit & words rhyme,
colors flow & philosophers dine,
I did it, I indulge the sin,
the sin of calling it mine.

in that passing moment,
I hold an illusory sway,

and then it goes away ...

Beating blogs to death

As I was thinking and discussing with A (yeah another one)... the boringness of a blog is directly proportional to the inability of the author to open up. And I don't mean the boringness of reading it (that is a different matter altogether), I meant the the boringness of writing it. If blogs cater to some voyeuristic/exhibitionist tendencies of human nature, there should at least be enough gore and juice to make it interesting. Completely abstract and cliched posts really don't cut it. A blog is more like a sitcom, it becomes fun when you get immersed in the story, start knowing the characters.

That brings me to the second question. Do I really want to wash my laundry in public? Probably not. Is it a good idea to let the grumpy guy or the sweet girl in the next cubicle know whats going on in the dirty little corner of my mind? Hmm. So I would rather be anonymous. A faceless exhibitionist? Writing as if nobody is reading? That contradicts the exhibitionist part, doesn't it.. oh well.

I am sure every blogger beats this to death. Its actually reading a friends' (let's call him PS, we shall refer to all characters by some screen name henceforth. I'll try to come up with interesting ones...) recent "first post" that made me ramble on.

Oh btw, I gets a kick out of messing with dem' grammer, like call myself "we".

I realized that just as important it is to be generous, it is essential to be able to accept generosity. It can be harder to take than to give.

When all else fails, take a nap :)

How many false starts have you had?

catch and release

so hard to hold
hard to let go
its miles apart
just a stone throw

breathe it in
and spit it out
i am so sure
so full of doubt

grasp tight
an empty fist
lose sight
in clearing mist

do you see?
what i mean
really sober
creatin' a scene

read into it?
a bit of tease
the disconnect
catch and release

Now as the words just dissolve,
unable to move a mind
unwilling to break a resolve.

It’s not in clever words, I realize,
where I seek my riddles,
where I seek my prize.

Is there less truth in trite?
any less metal in rusting iron,
than in gold polished bright?

I ’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
They ’d banish us, you know.

- Emily Dickinson

Every person, all the events of your life, are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.

Problem Solving

The Feynman Problem Solving Algorithm:

1. Write down the problem.
2. Think very hard.
3. Write down the solution.

:)